Sir Ludar Part 6

"I want you not! So leave me."

My Lord Burleigh himself could not have spoken the words more royally, although he would have spoken them with less music and more of an English accent in his voice.

Now, moved as I was by the look of my companion, it offended me to hear a loyal London 'prentice talked to thus like a dog, or, worse, like the drawer of the inn.

"By your leave," said I, and it was not often I said as much to any man, "unless you be the landlord of the place, I have as good a right to be here as you."

"Then," said he, solemnly and, as I thought, sadly, "guard yourself." I whipped out my sword. In my boastfulness, I thought I had too great an advantage with my long weapon against his short and not too highly- tempered blade, and I resolved with myself not to run him through if I could otherwise satisfy him. But my tune changed as soon as we closed.

I could do nothing. My fine thrusts and parries wherewith I was wont to set Finsbury Fields a-gaping all went for nothing. He got in at me over my guard, under my guard, beside my guard, and through my guard. Nor could I even do myself justice. For while I fenced, I was fascinated by the flas.h.i.+ng of his eyes and the n.o.ble gracefulness of his every motion.

In two minutes he had me disarmed, pinned up against the wall, as helpless as a silly ox in the grip of a tiger.

It mortified me as much as anything to find that when he had me thus at his mercy he dropped me half disdainfully, half pitifully, and put his dirk back into its sheath.

"Will you go now?"

"No," said I, doggedly. For so chapfallen was I that I wished nothing better than that he should do his worst with me.

At that he looked at me in solemn perplexity, and I expected to see his hand back at his girdle. But, to my confusion, he only shrugged his shoulders and turned away.

This completed my humbling; for no man had ever disdained me thus before. I might easily have reached my sword, which lay at my feet, and run him through before he could face round; yet he did not even deign to notice me, and walked slowly to the fire, where he sat with his back to me.

I could stand it no longer, and crossed the room to face him.

"You have beaten me," said I--and the words were hard to say--"take my sword, for, by heaven, I will never wear it again, and fare you well."

The cloud on his face broke into sunlight as he sprang to his feet, and, taking my arm, said--

"No. Stay here and let us be friends. I am too poor to offer thee supper, but here's my hand."

I took his hand like one in a dream. I could not help it, strange as it seemed.

"Sir," said I, "whoever you be, I strike hands on one condition only, that is, that you sup to-night with me. I'm a London 'prentice, but I know when I meet my match."

What that had to do with his supping with me, I know not; but I was so flurried with my late defeat and my enemy's sudden friendliness, that I scarcely knew what I said.

"If that be the price, I must even pay it," said he, solemnly, "so long as we be friends."

So I called to the man of the house to bring us food quickly, and, while it was coming, set myself to know more of my new comrade.

Yet when I came to question him I felt abashed. For he looked so grave and n.o.ble that, despite his ragged clothes, it seemed presumptuous to ask him who he was. While I doubted how to begin, he spared me the trouble.

"Are you going to Oxford?" said he.

"I am," said I. "I was to reach there this night, but lost my way; and even yet do not know how near I am."

"Not an hour from the cursed place," said he, giving his student's cap, which lay on the floor at his feet, a little kick.

"Then it agrees not with you?" said I.

"Agrees!" said he, and then dropped silent, far more eloquently than if he had spoken a volume.

"Pray, sir," said I, after an awkward pause, "do you know one Master Penry of Saint Alban Hall?"

He laughed at that.

"The Welshman? Verily, I know him. What do you want with him?"

"I am to deliver him a letter from my master. Can you take me to him?"

"No," said my companion, "for I shall never enter Oxford again."

"Is your term done, then?" I asked.

"For me it is," said he. "I have been here two months, and will have no more of it."

"But are you free to leave?" I asked--for my curiosity was roused.

"Free!" said he: "I am here, that is enough. If my tutor come after me, there will be two men who will never see Oxford again."

I pitied his tutor, whoever he was, when he said that.

"But where are you going then?" I asked.

"To-night I shall lie here. The man of the place is my friend, and will shelter me, though I have nothing to pay him. To-morrow I shall take the road."

Here our supper came in: a fine big trout from the river, and a dish which mine host called mutton, but which I smelt to be venison.

It smote me to the heart to mark the struggle in my comrade's face to keep down the ravenous joy which for a moment hailed the coming in of these good things. But the ecstasy lasted only a moment, and when I bade him fall to, he said indifferently he had no appet.i.te and wanted nothing.

"But it was a bargain," said I.

So he took a small helping. It plainly cut him to the quick to receive hospitality from a 'prentice, and he would, I think, as soon have starved, but for his promise.

I feigned not to notice what he took; yet I could not help marking the hungry way in which he devoured what was on his platter. Then when it was done, he rose and went to his seat at the fireplace, while I finished my supper at the table.

Before I had done, I filled my cup, as was my wont, and drank to Her Majesty, bidding my guest do the same.

He came gravely to the table at that, and filled a mug of ale to the brim. "Here's to my Queen," said he.

This struck me as odd, for his tone and manner were as if he were drinking to another toast than mine. Yet I did not dare to question him about it, and only hoped so n.o.ble a youth was one of Her Majesty's loyal servants.

Our host had but one small room with a single bed in it to offer us, which accordingly we shared for the night. Nor was it long before we were each sound asleep, forgetful of our troubles and quarrels and weariness.

Before we fell over, however, my comrade said:

"When go you into Oxford?"

"To-morrow, betimes," said I, "for my message is urgent."